


Passing Time

by MajesticMoments



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 22:02:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8914531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajesticMoments/pseuds/MajesticMoments
Summary: Molly’s intuition could be relied upon. Molly had an understanding of Sherlock, an understanding Sherlock himself couldn’t comprehend. S2, E3. After the "What do you need?" Scene





	

_Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, or the scenes they allude to. They belong to ACD & BBC Sherlock. This story adaptation is my own. _

* * *

 

 _tick. tick. tick. tick. tick. tick. tick._  
  
“…there’s only one thing he needs to complete his story…”  
  
_tick. tick. tick. tick. tick. tick._  
  
“You die.” It wasn’t a question. Just a statement, an acknowledgement. And like that, he knew she understood.  
  
The lights were still dark in the lab. They never bothered to turn it on. They weren’t even sitting on stools. Somehow, they found themselves sitting on the cold floor opposite each other, backs against the lab benches.  
  
_tick. tick. tick. tick. tick._  
  
He knew Moriarity’s play, it was simple. And Sherlock knew what he needed to do.  
  
Admittedly, he just didn’t know _how_. Fooling Moriarity required not his intellect or his brilliance. He needed Molly. And asking… he’d… he’d never asked anyone for help before. At least not like this.  
  
_tick. tick. tick. tick._  
  
Molly didn’t say anything. She sat there, arms hugging her knees, her body slightly shivering despite the fact she still wore her coat. Maybe he shouldn’t have come here. All it would do is put a target on her. Whether she realized this, it didn’t seem like it. She had a pensive look on her, head tilted a bit to the right, eyes unfocused, but scanning as if reading.  
  
tick. tick. tick.  
  
It was too quiet, yet it felt like an engine jet was whirring in his ears. His body betrayed him again, much like with the hounds. His heart beat so strong, he could feel the bound of his pulse under his fingers. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t shaking too. He rolled the squash ball between his hands. He doesn’t fidget. And yet here he was.  
  
He could do those sort of things here.  
  
_tick. tick._  
  
“You’re not _him_ , Sherlock.”  
  
_tick._  
  
It stopped. Mulling over her words, a crease became evident between his brows. Her brown eyes looked into his. She didn’t shy away like she normally did.  
  
“Well of course I’m not…”  
  
“That’s not what I meant.” Sighing, she took in a breath before continuing. “I mean… you’re still … _human_. You feel things. People like Moriarity… they’re _different_.” She stopped for a moment thinking.  
  
“You’re both brilliant to be sure. But, the frailty of genius, Sherlock, is it needs an audience.”  
  
His mind went back to his first case with John when he said those exact words. Sherlock’s mother often scolded him and Mycroft with that very statement. Hoping to damper their rambunctious egos as children. Basically, telling them not to be show offs. Where Molly had heard it, he didn’t know. It wasn’t in John’s blog, he knew it wasn’t. Though, it wasn’t exactly a novel statement.  
  
“And that genius shows itself differently for the both of you.” Pausing, making sure he understood, “You. You have John, his blog. You’re known to the world as a consulting detective. And Jim…,” stopping for a moment, realizing her fumble, “ _Moriarity_ … a consulting _criminal_.”  
  
Molly could tell he didn’t quite understand what she meant, that there was a difference between how they used their intellect that revealed more about Sherlock than he realized.  
  
“There’s a reason you’re a consulting _detective_ and not a consulting criminal, Sherlock. You _care_.”  
  
For the first time, Sherlock had nothing to say. He couldn’t deny Molly’s words. He wouldn’t admit it aloud, but there was truth to it.  
  
He felt his phone vibrate.  
  
HE BOUGHT IT.  
\- MH  
  
“He thinks he’s beaten you.”  
  
He looked up to her quickly. A mask of indifference appeared on his face.  
  
“Of course he hasn’t _beaten_ me. What makes you say that?”   
  
“Because _you_ think he has.” She pressed. Of course she saw that. There had been, for a moment, a small seed of doubt when he encountered Kitty Riley  & Richard Brook earlier. Its what drove him here to begin with. “You wouldn’t be here telling me all this if that weren’t true, Sherlock.”  
  
Wanting to change the subject, “I need you to do something Molly.” As if he could disguise the real reason he was here. She was right. He wouldn’t have told her as much if he didn’t need someone to talk this through. This was personal. More personal than he was willing to divulge to anyone else.  
  
“You’re going away, aren’t you?” Ignoring his request.  
  
“If its necessary…”  
  
“It is though, isn’t it.” And again, with the finality in her words.  
  
He looked at her again. Really looked at her. Of all the times he deduced her, this is the first time he witnessed such perseverance in her face. Her shaking had stopped. Instead she sat resolute, looking at him. She already knew the answers to her questions.  
  
“I know you need me to find a decoy. Another body, the one that looks like you.”  
  
“Yes.” He brought his phone back out, pressing new text message to Mycroft’s number.  “You were doing research, the one with access to John Doe and Jane Doe cases throughout London.” Typing his message as he spoke. “I suspect you’ll find a body that has turned up, possibly yesterday afternoon. I need you to find it.”  
  
_SEND SOMEONE FOR DR. HOOPER._  
_\- SH_  
  
She looked at him as if following his words.  
  
“You need to _let_ him think he beat you. You need to let him see that you’re only human. You hide it so well sometimes.”  
  
_Sometimes_. He didn’t acknowledge her words. Instead, focusing on the matter on hand. Thankful that his phone vibrated in response so quickly.  
  
3 MINUTES  
MH  
  
Sherlock would have guessed there would be some retort in there. A snide comment about involving Molly. But there was none. There was no time for that right now he realized.  
  
“Mycroft is sending you a car. It will be here soon.”  
  
But Molly wasn’t having any of that. “Whatever you’re planning, you won’t pull it off if he thinks you have the upper hand. Not everything is clever, Sherlock. You like things to be clever. And as smart as Moriarity is, the simplest answer is probably the right one.”  
  
Clearing his throat, he stood up. His knees relieved for the change in position. Holding out a hand to Molly, she stared up at him. Hesitating before putting her hand in his. They were cold. Such small fingers. He resisted the urge to warm them. Instead, pulling her to her feet.  
  
Still holding her hand, he leaned down to place a kiss on her left cheek. “Thank you, Molly.”  
  
The doors to the lab opened, one of Mycroft’s agents walking in. “Dr. Hooper.”  
  
Molly didn't turn to the agent, though. She only stared at Sherlock. Worry and concern were evident on her face. But now wasn’t the time to dwell. She didn’t say anything as she eventually walked away.

**Author's Note:**

> I've always felt that Molly did more than just find a decoy body for Sherlock and do the autopsies. In my mind, Mycroft could have easily taken care of both those things without involving Molly at all. Therefore, I think Molly provided something for Sherlock that Sherlock himself didn't realize he needed. Hence this story. This is either going to be a two-parter or three-parter.
> 
> P.S. I'm trying to write as much as possible before the new season starts. I have so many things swirling in my brain. I really just want to get it all out because I'm not sure whether I'll be up to it after it airs. So if I get started now, I'll be more likely to continue after.
> 
> Please leave your thoughts. And let me know if something didn't make sense. English isn't all that great for me sometimes. Thanks :)


End file.
